My Exciting Life and Other Oxymorons
by NittanyLizard
Summary: Gina has the most average life on the planet. Maybe this summer will be different... Extension of Ten Years Later. See author's note in Chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Okay, this one's a little different. If you're craving a story that has a deep and gripping plot and which delves into the thoughts and hearts of The Outsiders characters, this story is NOT what you are looking for. A sort of extension of my story Ten Years Later, this focuses on Ponyboy's daughter, Gina, and is purely a fun exercise in character development for me. I like to write things that don't necessarily go anywhere and haven't always got a plot, just to keep me writing and to give me a break from some of the more involved stories I'm working on, what with the intense pressure and deadlines coming from undisclosed coughKeiracough entities. Lol, you know I think you're awesome. So if you liked my original characters in TYL and are looking for a story that won't make you think too hard, carry on. If not, back away slowly, and please don't trip over the baby toys on your way through…

I did consider just emailing this to a few people, but I know there are some TYL readers who would probably like to read it, or even posting it on Fictionpress, but that would have involved skirting around some of the characters' names or turning them into completely different people. So, apologies to those looking for a more die-hard Outsiders fic or something more thought-provoking (that one's in the works ;). Just a little summer fun here. Feel free send me a PM to offer suggestions for content.

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. My characters just happen to be related to hers. :D

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**My Exciting Life and Other Oxymorons  
Chapter 1**

What is the deal with internal clocks?

You spend all winter struggling to wake up in the morning, skim through the getting-ready routine in a haze, climb onto the bus like a zombie, and spend most of first period yawning and thinking about how warm and cozy your bed is all by itself back at home.

And then, wham! Summer vacation hits, and you can sleep as long as you want – or at least until Mom needs you to help with something – but instead, you pop awake at six in the morning and stare at the ceiling for forty-eight minutes wondering how you'll ever be able to call yourself a respectable teenager.

It was ten minutes to seven when I finally gave up on trying to get back to sleep. I rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and went out to the kitchen.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hmmm."

I sat up onto one of the stools by the part of the counter that sticks out ninety degrees from the rest of the counter – Mom calls it the peninsula – and took a banana out of the fruit bowl. Dad was leaning on the end of the peninsula feverishly writing in a notebook, so I turned my attention to the warm breeze that lifted the kitchen curtains slightly at random intervals. The view out the back screen door could have been clipped out of a magazine article about perfect summer days – the sky was blue, there were birds picking around in the grass, one of the horses was lazily plodding around grazing, and I could hear our neighbor's lawn mower off in the distance. "Looks like it'll be nice today," I said, sliding the peel away from the top half of the fruit.

"Mmm," Dad agreed, leaning his forehead into his palm and scribbling something out.

"The graduation ceremony was nice last night," I added between bites.

"Uh-huh." He was writing again, hadn't even looked up at me, and I could see he was in the middle of something good.

"We should raise my allowance since I got a couple of awards."

Dad took another few seconds to finish the sentence he was working on. "Nice try." He flipped the page back and re-read something before turning to a blank page and starting up with the feverish writing again.

Dad writes novels in his spare time. Not that he would appear to most people to have tons of spare time, but my dad isn't most people. He works full time in the city as Director of Something Something Something at Child Protective Services, volunteers with all kinds of school events, does freelance writing for a local newspaper, writes novels, and still makes time to spend with us. "Us" consists of me, my twin brother Jon, and our brothers, Robbie and Jason, plus whatever foster kids are staying with us at any given time. Robbie and Jason both started out as foster brothers. Oh yeah, and Mom and Dad are remodeling the kitchen and putting an addition on the house, so Dad spends a lot of time working on that, too. My Uncle Darry, who raised Dad from the time my grandparents died when Dad was thirteen, comes over about every other weekend to help out and make sure everything is moving along smoothly. He's good with building things.

"Why am I awake?" Robbie sank down into one of the kitchen chairs and gazed around like he had just…well…crawled out of bed.

"Your hair looks funny," I told him. It's bright orange (why do they call people like him red-heads? one of the great mysteries), and it was sticking up in wild tufts like it does when he needs a haircut. "It makes it look like your head is on fire. Like that heat miser guy on the Christmas special."

He blinked at me. "My head is on fire?"

"Yes."

Robbie moved a cautious hand up to touch his hair, and screamed so loud when his fingers came into contact with it that I jumped. Dad just kept writing.

"You're such a dork," I said. Robbie was laughing like a fool. He's sixteen years old, likes to laugh, and is always saying funny things. He's the funniest person he knows. I don't always think he's so funny, but at least he isn't moody, snappy, and aloof, like _some_ people we live with.

"Morning, Jason," Robbie announced in an overly cheerful voice. Speak of the devil. "What brings you out here at this hour on such a fine morning?"

Jason ignored Robbie and sank down at the end of the table, reaching for the box of corn flakes as he did. "Is the milk out?"

"We like to keep it in the fridge so people aren't throwing up all over the house," I said.

Jason glanced up at me, annoyed. "I come into a room where three other people are already eating breakfast and I can't ask if the milk is out? Don't be a dimwit."

"Don't call each other names," Dad interjected, not looking up.

"_I'm_ not eating," Robbie offered.

Jason glared at Robbie, Robbie gave an innocent shrug, and I tossed a tiny wadded up piece of napkin at Jason. He didn't notice. "So is the milk out?" Robbie asked, reaching for the Cheerios.

"You -" Jason reached over and took a swing at Robbie, who laughed and jumped out of the way, knocking over one of the stools.

"Guys, I'm trying to write here," Dad said, not peeling his eyes off the notebook.

"Do I have to go to this stupid party?" Jason asked on his way to the refrigerator.

"It's my graduation party!" I said. Who the heck complains about having to go to a party, anyway?

"I thought it was Jon's party," Robbie mused, squinting his eyes and using a tone like he was trying to solve a mystery and I had just admitted my guilt.

"So do I have to?" Jason asked again. Jason is almost eighteen, has been living with us since he was eight, and I'm pretty sure he still doesn't like us.

Dad didn't look up as he answered. "Yes, Jason, we've been through this. It's your brother and sister's graduation party." He crossed out a word and stared at the paper, pen at the ready to capture the right word when it spilled off the top of his head.

Robbie poured himself a bowl of Cheerios and shook his head. "I cannot believe you would go so far as to force one of your children to attend a party. Next thing, you'll be expecting him to have fun! By God, where will it end? Somebody should call Child Protective Services!"

I noticed Dad was trying to suppress a smirk. I just went ahead and laughed. "I'll bet Mom tries to make him eat some of the cake she made," I suggested. "Frosting and everything."

Jason glared from me to Robbie, but didn't say anything with Dad right there.

"Could you pass the milk, please?" Robbie asked Jason with a look on his face that probably made Jason consider belting him. I have to admit, Robbie is funny, but when you're the one he's focusing his energy on he makes you want to slap him. Which I have done on occasion, incidentally.

"Hey Ponypop, do you have something I can use to keep the door shut where I'm sleeping? It keeps swinging open."

I smiled and watched my oldest brother squeeze past me and sit down at the table. He ran a hand through his dark wet hair and pulled on the white t-shirt he'd been carrying. I hadn't even heard the shower running.

"I have some of those hook locks," Dad offered. "We could put one of those up temporarily."

"Good enough," Vic said. "Whatever it takes to keep that damned cat out. He was on my pillow all night."

"Which one?" I asked.

"The white one."

"He actually slept on your bed?" I was surprised. The white cat sort of came along with the house when my parents bought it; he is lean, mean, and a little scary, and he seems to be under the impression that we are uninvited guests in his home. Mostly he stays outside, stretching out in the sun right on the pathway to the barn, daring anyone to step over him and risk getting a scratch on their bare foot. When he's not doing that, he is skulking around hunting for mice and picking baby birds out of their nests to leave on our back porch. He is cold and tough, never purrs, and is always coming home with some bloody new battle scar that he won't let anyone touch. Dad says he reminds him of an old buddy of his, so that's what we call him – Dallas.

Vic shrugged at my question as he checked out his options and settled on the box of Cheerios. "How long has this milk been sitting out?" he asked.

I snickered, Robbie snorted, and Jason gave a death stare. "Two minutes and twelve seconds," he grumbled.

"Hey, don't give me attitude," Vic warned. Jason looked back down at the car magazine he had folded out in front of him.

"Vic, can you take me for a ride?" I asked.

Vic turned around to assess my attire. "Jeans, sneakers, and a jacket," he concluded.

"A jacket?" I protested, indignant. "It's about a hundred degrees out!"

"It's eighty-three. No jacket, no ride."

"Okay, okay, I'll wear my jean jacket. Sheesh." Vic has a motorcycle, and sometimes when he's visiting he'll take me out for a ride. We have a couple of horses, and I have a bicycle, but as far as I'm concerned there's nothing that compares to getting out on the road with the engine rumbling and the wind blowing around you. It's like flying, only lower to the ground. Not that I've ever flown, but I have a pretty good imagination.

Vic was my parents' first foster child, when he was thirteen. He is twenty-eight now, and is the coolest brother on the planet. He drives a motorcycle, lives in the city, and talks to you like you're an adult, no matter how old you are. Vic never tells me something I want to hear just to make me feel better, and he doesn't sugar-coat anything. Some people, including some of my family members, don't appreciate that. I think it's awesome.

"So who was the idiot last night who couldn't even walk across the stage without tripping over his own feet?" Robbie asked loudly just as Jon walked into the room.

Jon gave the back of Robbie's head a shove as he walked past him. "My robe was too long."

Robbie looked surprised. "Oh, wow, was that you? Jeez, I'm sorry."

"You're such a putz," Jon told Robbie, then smiled over at me. I smiled back. We were done with eighth grade. Next year, high school. It was exciting and scary at the same time. But at least I had almost three months to not think about it.

Mom breezed into the kitchen trying to latch her bracelet. "Pone, were you planning to mow the front yard this morning?"

Dad closed his notebook and stuck his pen into the spiral part. "If that's what you need me to do." He caught Mom by the hand and hooked her bracelet for her, so she leaned down and gave him a kiss.

Mom turned to the rest of us. "Is anyone coming to the grocery store with me?"

Silence.

"Whoever stays here has to do the vacuuming and clean the main bathroom," she added.

Robbie's head shot up like he had just gotten hit with a bolt of lightening. "I'm sorry, did I phase out for a sec? Did Mom say she would appreciate some help at the store? Because Jon and I are available. What? I'm just trying to be helpful."

I shook my head. "And you hate vacuuming."

Robbie looked aghast. "Of what do you speak? I heard nothing about vacuuming, only my dear mother's cry for assistance. And of course, as is my nature, I jumped at the opportunity."

"Hurry and finish eating then," Mom said. "I'd like to get there early so I can finish up here. Gina and Jason, you two take care of the vacuuming and bathroom this morning, so they're done by the time I get home." She stopped on her way out of the kitchen and looked back at the table. "And could somebody please put the milk away? I don't like it left out like that, it'll go bad."


	2. Chapter 2

Once again – I'm just writing this for fun, there's no real plot to speak of, and the canon characters only make small appearances. I'm just posting it here for anyone who would like to see more of some of the characters I created in Ten Years Later. Because the canon characters do appear in the story, I cannot post this on Fictionpress. It's just a light summer read, so have fun and feel free to make suggestions :). Liz

Thanks to all who reviewed. I will get my responses out to you soon, sorry for the delay!

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

**Dedication**: This one's for Amy, an old friend of mine who's out there somewhere, maybe still trying to figure out how to bounce a ball. There's another sort of "hidden" dedication within the chapter; I think the person it's for will recognize it when she sees it ;).

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**Chapter 2**

"Gina, look out! The giant green snake is trying to eat you!"

I untangled my foot from the garden hose and gave Robbie a disgusted smirk. How many times can the same joke be funny? "I told you, I thought he meant there was a snake _next_ to the hose!"

Robbie nodded. "Yeah. Uh-huh."

"Stop it!" Last summer, one of Robbie's friends had gotten me thinking there was a snake following me around – you know, 'no, it's there, right next to you! You just walked past it!' – kind of stuff, and I had been practically in tears hysterical. I can't stand snakes. I don't mind spiders, mice, bugs, or any of the other stuff that people usually think girls are afraid of. But make me think there's a snake nearby and I lose it. I have no idea why, either; I guess you'd call it a phobia. Anyway, Robbie's friend had been talking about the garden hose the whole time, and they were all practically rolling on the ground laughing at me by the time I figured out what was going on.

"It's coming back around for another go at you, Gina!"

I reached down into the bucket of water balloons that we'd just finished filling, snatched one out, and hurled it hard at Robbie. Naturally it sailed right past him and exploded on Jason's side as he crossed the yard on his way to Dad, who was setting up tables back by the maple trees. As soon as I saw the balloon make contact I froze for an instant, just long enough to hear Jason swear loudly and turn in fury as he sought out his assailant. I was about to blame Robbie, who looked even more amused than ever at this new development, but as soon as Jason and I made eye contact he knew it was me who had thrown it. I turned and ran as Jason rocketed toward me.

"Wasn't…my fault!" I shrieked once I could hear him directly behind me. Something hit me in the middle of my back with the force of an icy bullet. "Ahhh!"

"You little brat!" Jason spat, grabbing my arm and holding the hose, set for power wash, about three inches from the back of my neck and pulling the trigger.

I screamed and twisted as bitter cold water ran down my back and drenched my shirt, not to mention that it was practically ripping my skin off. "Stop!" I kept twisting, and Jason kept curling the hose around to account for my movements. "I was throwing it at Robbie!" I finally spluttered after getting a face full of water. He at least moved the hose down some. "He was making fun of me with that stupid snake joke again."

The water stopped, and Jason tossed the hose onto the ground and thrust my arm away. "Your aim sucks," he informed me, like that was my fault.

"No kidding. And now you're five times as wet as I made you, genius," I pointed out. It was true – in attacking me with the hose, Jason had gotten most of the front of his shirt and jeans wet. "Was your little revenge worth it?"

"Shut up." Jason turned away from me, shaking his head, and started walking back toward where Dad was. As he passed by the bucked he reached down, scooped out a water balloon, and fired it halfway across the yard at Robbie. It broke on the back of his head. Jason's aim is a little better than mine; he plays varsity baseball.

"Are you ready?" At Vic's question I turned around to see him coming out the back door spinning his keys around on his finger. He stopped to take a look at me. "You're wet."

"Yeah," I answered.

"Maybe you should go change your shirt," he suggested.

I shrugged. "I'll dry."

"I really think it would be a good idea to go change your shirt."

I wrinkled my forehead. "What's the big deal? It's just water." I was thinking of making fun of Vic for being afraid of getting his back a little wet from me leaning into him on the motorcycle.

Vic sighed. "Gina, you're wearing a white shirt. You're dripping wet."

Hadn't we just gone through this? I stared at my brother, waiting for the punch line. He doesn't usually hedge like that, and it was getting a little weird.

"I don't know how much clearer I can make this," Vic finally said. "Okay, at the very least – go…put…on…a…BRA."

I gasped and crossed my arms over my chest. Okay, so I'm not very well endowed. I mean, I wear bras, but they are the smallest size known to mankind, and sometimes when I'm just doing things around the house I don't bother putting one on. They get uncomfortable by the end of the day. "You could have said that from the beginning," I pointed out, ducking past him.

"I was trying to be tactful. My mistake."

One dry t-shirt, one nearly-A-size bra, and three minutes later, we were climbing onto Vic's bike to head over to Carson's General Store. It's kind of like a deli/drugstore/stationery store all in one. They're open every day of the year, even Christmas and Thanksgiving. Half the town is usually there on holidays picking up last minute film or extra whipped cream or more scotch tape. The place isn't even run by the Carson family any more. Mr. Weinhoffer bought it several years back when Mr. Carson won a bunch of money on a horse and decided to retire. But it was Carson's for so long, that's what everybody still calls it, despite the big Weinhoffer's sign hanging out front.

Anyway, it only took about five minutes to get there; I stood and perused the magazines while Vic went and got the batteries he needed. It wasn't until we were standing at the counter behind old Mr. Daniels that I glanced over to the front doors and gasped.

"What?" Vic asked.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

I turned away quickly before he saw me staring at him. "Emilio Montero," I whispered. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod."

"Who?" Vic was trying to figure out who I was talking about.

"No, don't look! He's over by the door, the one with the brown hair wearing the blue tank top." My heart was racing. Had he seen me?

"So? What about him?"

Guys, I swear. "He's gorgeous! Just look at him. Do you think he saw me?" I wasn't sure if I wanted him to have seen me or not. Emilio is going into eleventh grade, like Robbie, and he is the cutest thing on two legs. "Does my hair look okay?"

Vic glanced at me while he handed the cashier a twenty. "Like a rat's nest."

"Ah! I forgot about the helmet. No, don't look at him!"

Vic slid his change into his pocket and handed me the bag. "Have you completely lost your mind? He's standing right next to the door we're walking toward. I'm looking at the door, not at stud-man."

Reluctantly I slunk after Vic, desperately trying to straighten my hair as I walked. Emilio was standing there talking to Trent McMasters. I smiled as we walked by, but he barely glanced at me. Of course, he had no idea who I was. He barely knew Robbie, they were just in the same class. But I have the biggest crush on Emilio, pretty much like half the other girls in my grade. Light brown hair, dark brown eyes, bright white smile, perfect nose…I could go on and on.

Come to think of it, I did go on and on. By the time we got home Vic was saying something along the lines of going inside to puncture his own eardrums with a sharp stick. And I had thought I wasn't yelling loud enough, what with the noise from the bike and all.

"Jeeners!" Robbie called.

I trekked over to where Robbie and Jon were lounging in the grass. "Yeah?"

"You're the best sister in the world. Have I told you that today? No, the universe! You outrank all alien life forms in the history of sisterhood." Robbie grinned at me and reached up to rub the back of my hand.

"So what do you want, Coke or root beer?"

"Get out. There's no orange? Didn't Mom get orange soda?"

"How should I know? You're the ones who went to the store with her," I reminded him.

Robbie ignored my comment. "What person in their right mind doesn't get orange soda for a party? Good God, Mom needs to be medicated!"

"Lin's here," Jon announced, looking past me to the driveway as he lazily spun a wheel on his overturned skateboard.

I turned around to see our sister emerging from a beat-up brown car that had one corner painted red. The guy who had been driving climbed out of the driver's side, surveyed the house and yard, and lit up a cigarette. "Looks like a right upstanding sort of fellow," Robbie observed. The guy was wearing ripped faded jeans, had scraggly hair in three different shades of green, and sported a tattoo on his bicep of some sort of firearm.

"He's standing upright, alright," Jon agreed, "which is at least a step up, evolutionarily speaking, from the last guy."

I waved to Lin, who smiled and waved back before saying something to her new man, whose name I actually remembered – Charlie. I love my sister, but I don't understand her taste in guys at all. She always ends up with some loser who treats her like dirt, mooches off of her, and then breaks up with her.

"Ooh, here comes Vic," Robbie pointed out with renewed interest as Vic approached Linleigh. "He looks thrilled to meet the new beau." Vic was giving Lin a hug and throwing nasty looks over her shoulder at Charlie, who seemed oblivious.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a volleyball bounced off the side of Robbie's head. He fell sideways and laid there like he was dead. "You losers up for a butt-whoopin'?"

Robbie sat back up and tossed the ball back to our Uncle Soda. "Oh, please. That game was such a farce. It was fixed, I tell you! We had the pregnant woman and," Robbie glanced at me and lowered his voice to a loud whisper, "and Gina on our team."

I waved my hand at Soda. "Throw the ball at his head again, only really mean it this time. Knock him out."

Soda held the ball back and pretended to lob it forcefully at a Robbie, who cowered in the grass and made pleading noises.

"It's not my fault I'm not athletically inclined," I announced. Seriously, I'm not; I was one of those kids who, while trying to bounce a ball, either tossed it down onto my own feet and watched it ricochet across the playground, or managed to let it bounce straight up into my nose, missing my hand entirely. But I'm okay with that, because my aspirations lie elsewhere. I have images of myself being an important lawyer or private investigator or something along those lines, living in the city, having my own apartment, meeting with clients in fancy restaurants…

I even bugged Vic once to let me go to work with him, so I could get some experience. He's a lawyer, so I was hoping for some good courtroom drama and maybe a little coy intimidation. No such luck. We sat in a stuffy office all afternoon surrounded by papers and files. He made me organize a bunch of the files while he spent half the time on the phone with a hundred different people, including Dad. Vic does a lot of pro bono work, most of which in some way originates from Dad. Pro bono means that he works for free, usually for people who need more help but can't afford it. I didn't know what it meant until I asked him. "I'm going to solve mysteries," I said.

"Of course you are," Soda agreed. He doesn't let us call him Uncle Soda, I should mention. He's been telling us for years that once he's the same age as 'Old Uncle Darry', we can add the title.

"Maybe for her second investigation, she can find Jimmy Hoffa," Jon added, and everyone snickered.

I stiffened. "It could have been a body!"

"It _was_ a body," Jon pointed out.

"And by God," Robbie said, shaking a fist, "we will find the bastards who killed it, if it takes every ounce of manpower at our disposal!"

Okay, so I have a rather active imagination. But when you find a large bone sticking out of the vegetable garden, exhuming the body takes precedence over the tomatoes. Unfortunately for me, Mom didn't see it that way.

"Are you people talking about that dead cow again?" Vic plopped down on the grass across from Robbie and took a swallow of his beer.

"Actually, we were talking about Gina solving mysteries," Robbie corrected.

"Actually, we were talking about how athletically inept Gina is," Jon corrected.

Soda sighed. "_Actually_, we were talking about volleyball." He tossed the ball in the air for effect. "Anyone game?"

Everybody dragged themselves up off the grass, volunteering in groans. "Is the baby inside?" I asked.

Soda nodded. "Don't worry about it if she cries. Mel and I are the only people she wants all of a sudden. Stranger anxiety or something."

I stopped. "But she was just here two weeks ago!"

Soda shrugged and grinned. "Hey, I don't understand 'em. I'm just the dad."

I tromped across the lawn to the house, where I found Melanie in the kitchen holding Janelle and talking to Mom. My cousin is seven months old and completely adorable. It took a long time for Melanie to want kids, and now that she has one she's all about the baby. Business suits were traded in for sweats and t-shirts, and you'd never know that two years earlier she didn't know which end of a baby was up.

"Can I hold her?" I asked.

Melanie looked skeptical. "You can try, but don't be disappointed if she throws a fit." She bounced Janelle around and raised her pitch a few notches. "Look, Jannie! Look who's here! It's Gina!"

Janelle smiled and waved her arm around, so I held my hands out, and Melanie eased her over to me. It took her about three seconds to assess the situation and come to the conclusion that she had never seen me before in her life and wanted nothing to do with me. Her bottom lip bulged forward and her face scrunched up, so I handed her back to Mel before anything loud happened. Melanie gave an apologetic smile.

"Well Jannie," I said, letting her get a grip on my finger from the safety of her Mom's arms, "I guess I'll go ahead outside and help somebody lose their volleyball game."

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Hope ya'll enjoyed! I wanted to get an Independence Day chapter up by the 4th or 5th, so we'll see how far I can get by then. Have a great week! 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I'll just keep putting this at the beginning of every chapter: This is just a little fun story, not going anywhere specific, and it primarily focuses on some of the characters I created for Ten Years Later. I have to post it on this site instead of on Fictionpress, though, because the cannon characters do appear, and I don't own them (see disclaimer). Have fun, hope you enjoy! Liz

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

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**My Exciting Life and Other Oxymorons  
Chapter 3**

Independence Day

Is it just me, or does everybody else's simple family outings turn into a tremendous undertaking?

"Gina, I thought you were planning on having Del and Ty with you," Mom asked again.

"Just for the fireworks," I answered, again, patiently. "They're going to be with Robbie during the parade so they can get more candy. I'm watching from in front of Jackie's house, where all of Jackie's old relatives will be sitting in lawn chairs. Most of the candy is going to go to the kids in front of the drugstore. Everyone knows that."

Dad chuckled. "And how many years did this take to figure out?"

"Okay," Mom continued – Mom is a teacher, and she needs to have everything organized to a T – "they'll be with Robbie during the parade, and then Jon will bring them to -"

"No."

Mom sighed. "Just please tell me what's going on so I know where everybody is going to be."

Robbie cleared his throat. "Allow me. Uncle Darry is dropping Del and Ty off by Rem's Furniture Outlet, since it's off the parade route. I'm taking them to the drugstore, where Jon," Robbie used a hand to indicate my brother, who had a mouth full of Cheetos, "will meet us. THEN, at the commencement of the parade, I will unload the little" he glanced a Mom and grinned at the warning look she gave him, "the little tykes on Gina, who will have appeared at the drugstore by then, since she will have been inhabiting an alternate dimension, where the parade will have already finished." Jackie's house is a few blocks down the parade route from the drugstore.

"Then," Jon took over, wiping cheesy orange residue on his shorts, "Robbie and I are skateboarding down to Ryan's house for his family's barbecue -"

"To be appropriately refueled," Robbie added, nodding his head back to Jon, who nodded.

"And then we'll head up to the ball fields to find Gina and her cronies and the cousins, who will have picked out a prime location for firework watching."

"So as soon as those two get to me," I continued, as the next obvious participant in the verbal relay, "I will call Uncle Darry and Aunt Jenn from one of the payphones, since they will have finished painting the Daniels' bathroom by then, so they can come to the house and pick up the two of you," I indicated Mom and Dad, "who will have prepared the cooler with snacks and drinks for all of us."

Mom gave a quick nod. "And what about Jason?"

I shrugged. "He'll probably be with the team after the parade. I'm sure as heck not asking him what he's doing." The high school baseball team had won the division championship, so they were going to be in the parade on one of the fire trucks.

"I have a question," Dad said, raising his hand. "In a field of over nine-hundred people, wouldn't it be a good idea to have a prearranged meeting spot? You do realize it could take over an hour for the two of you to find Gina."

Robbie waved a dismissive hand. "No problem, Dad, I have it all figured out. When we're ready to find Gina, Jon will use his Extra-Sensory Twin Powers to contact her, and they will both then rely on their Super Special Semi-Magnetic Twin Locator Receptors to pinpoint each others' location."

Dad nodded like it was a good idea that he hadn't even thought of. "Great. Brilliant. Have fun at the parade, and don't get run over by any clowns on stilts." He stood up and got us all moving toward the door. "Your ride should be here any second. Go on, out; have fun."

The three of us shuffled out the door. "I think Dad's trying to get rid of us," Robbie commented as we walked up the driveway to wait for Jackie's aunt, who was picking us up.

"Yeah," I agreed. "They must be anxious to start getting the cooler filled up."

Robbie and Jon exchanged a glance. "Uh-huh," Robbie said. "Yeah, that's it."

"What?" I hate when they act like I'm stupid. "Mom already cleaned the house, I put away all the laundry this morning, and Dad said he finished up that thing he was writing. What else is there for them to do?"

They both gave me a look, and it clicked. "Oh! Argh! Ew, do you really think they still…" I couldn't even say it. "I mean, they're parents. They're old and all."

"Gina," Robbie said, draping an arm over my shoulders, "this is one of those subjects that I think we all would like to drop right now, without further discussion or thought. Okay?"

"Okay."

>>>> 

"Ty, do you have any more Smarties in there?" I reached over for my cousin's brown paper bag.

He shrugged. "Go ahead and check. I just want the lollipops."

I pulled his bag over and dumped it onto the blanket next to me. Ty is nine, and looks just like his dad, my Uncle Darry. His brother, Del, is eleven. Del's name is really Darrel, like his dad's, but when Ty was little he couldn't say Darrel. It came out "Del", and pretty soon that was what everybody was calling him.

"Here." Del tossed me a packet of Smarties. "You can have mine."

"Aw, thanks, Del!" He smiled when I put my arm around him. "You're the best!"

"Are those your brothers headed this way?" Jackie asked, pointing. Jackie and I have been friends for a little over a year. We knew each other before then, but didn't hang out or anything.

I looked up and let out a relieved sigh. "Finally." They trekked the last twenty feet through the crowd, and Jon flopped down next to me and rolled onto his back. "How long were you looking for us?"

"Oh," Robbie answered, glancing at his watch, "let's see, maybe…hmm…well, technically, it was just a couple of -"

"Seventy-three minutes," Jon finished. "You can go call Uncle Darry now."

"I already did." I reached over and gave him a pat on his stomach where his shirt was pulled up. "You guys were taking too long. It's already getting dark." I waved a hand at Robbie. "Where did you get the soda? Can I have some?" I was so thirsty I was ready to drink the plasticy liquid stuff in the little wax bottles that Del had in his candy bag.

Robbie jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Bought it off a guy back there in a trench coat. He had a nice selection of watches, too." He handed me the soda and smiled at Jackie's new friend Dawn, who was practically rolling on the blanket laughing at him. "It's diet," he warned.

I shrugged. "Whatever." I put the straw up to my lips, but stopped when Jackie gasped. "What?"

She gave me a startled look, like how you look at somebody when they're about to make a life-altering mistake but haven't yet realized it.

"What?" I asked, getting impatient.

Jackie lowered her voice. "Isn't, you know…isn't Robbie…sick?" She glanced up at my brother like she thought he might not have heard her.

Before I could answer, Robbie started coughing, gagging, and clutching his throat, and fell to the ground in a wicked imitation of somebody in the jerking throes of death. He let out one last choking gasp and went limp.

I took a sip of the soda. "Jackie, he's diabetic. He doesn't have cooties."

"Oh." She brushed her dark hair away from her face, clearly still confused. I like Jackie, but she can have some weird ideas.

"You can't catch diabetes from somebody," Jon offered. Jackie still didn't look convinced.

Dawn cleared her throat loudly.

"Oh!" I took another swallow of the soda and handed it back to Robbie. "Guys, this is Dawn. She moved in down the street from Jackie a couple of weeks ago. Dawn, these are my brothers, Jon and Robbie."

My brothers said their hellos, and Robbie sat down next to me. "How was Ryan's?" I asked.

"Good," Jon said. "Lots of kids stopped by. We're forming some baseball teams for the summer, to play over in the fields at Venue Park."

"Oh yeah?" I tried to look interested, but could feel my brain stretching to think about something else, like when you have your foot holding the door open while you're trying to reach something that's just out of your grasp.

Jon pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket. "We've got eight so far on our team."

"Sounds good." What had he said? I was watching some older kids who were walking by waving those light-up necklaces around. Dad used to get us those at the carnival. I wonder how they make them light up? Would you die if you accidentally swallowed the stuff inside, or would your eyes glow or something?"

"- our bikes over for the games." Jon gazed at me for a few seconds. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

I tried to look insulted. "Of course I did! Baseball. And you're riding your bikes over."

Jon shook his head in a gesture of defeat.

"Hey guys, we're here." Dad and Uncle Darry dropped the cooler onto the edge of the blanket with a thump.

"Here, if anyone wants to sit down, we brought some chairs," Mom offered, setting down the lawn chairs she was carrying. I declined. Who sits in a lawn chair to watch fireworks?

Jason showed up a few minutes later, after I was done introducing Dawn around, so I went through the routine one more time. "Hey," Jason greeted.

Dawn, who kind of rubbed me the wrong way if you want to know the truth, gave him what I would categorize as a seductive smile. "Hi there."

And for the rest of the fireworks, I wanted to vomit. Before the first one had even been lit, she had sidled right up next to Jason and was laughing at everything he said, even when he wasn't being funny, which is pretty much all the time. But to top it off, Jason was just eating it up. He was saying clever things, teasing her, and I even saw him tickle her when the fireworks were going.

I leaned over to Jon and whispered into his ear, "If I acted the way she is, he would tell me to stop being a ditz and leave him alone. How come he can be so nice to somebody he just met when he's so…so…so not nice to us?"

Jon shrugged. "Basic male instincts, I guess. If he's not nice to other people, he'll never find a mate and reproduce. His superior anatomic makeup will never be contributed to the gene pool, and his descendancy will be lost."

I laughed, but it still bugged me, and the more I thought about it, the madder I got. I had seen Jason at school events and parties with his friends, and they all thought he was great. He was fun, he was nice, he was polite, he laughed with them, and he treated them with respect, even when they did stupid things. Then he came home and talked to me like I was the most annoying thing since Barney, and I never even did anything to him. And I was his own sister!

By the time the fireworks were over, I liked Dawn even less than I had when we'd first met. And all because she could make my brother like her in thirty minutes, but I hadn't gotten him to like me in eight years.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Mostly my characters, have to put it here though, yadda yadda…(sorry, very busy these days ;)

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

* * *

**My Exciting Life**

**Chapter 4**

"Uncle Darry?"

Tap BAM. "Yeah?" Tap BAM.

I set the eraser of my pencil against my bottom lip. "What's an eight-letter word for a person guided by ideals rather than by what is practical? It begins with an 'i'."

Tap BAM. "Idiot."

I counted it out on my fingers. "That's only five letters."

Uncle Darry took the last nail out of his mouth. Tap BAM. "So give it a few extra t's at the end."

"Right. Good idea." I love doing the crossword puzzle with Uncle Darry. I leaned over and filled in the boxes with 'idiotttt'. I glanced up as he started in with another mouthful of nails. Tap BAM. He's got this great way of hammering, where he sets the nail with one little tap, then brings the hammer back and pounds the rest of the nail straight through, flat against the sheetrock, with one sharp strike.

"Don't you people know it's only," Robbie glanced at his bare wrist, "kind of early in the morning? Sunday morning, at that?" He raked a hand through his hair and scratched his chest.

"It's ten-thirty," Uncle Darry said.

"Yeah, well," Robbie started, looking indignant, "SOME of us around here work hard all week, moving heavy objects and getting sweaty and tired."

Uncle Darry gave him a hard stare.

"And when Sunday finally rolls around, the REST of us would like to get some sleep," Robbie finished.

"Hey, we're back!" Dad called out. He and Jon came back to the new addition a minute later carrying some bags marked with the hardware store's logo. "Couldn't find the washers, but we got the rest of the stuff. Sorry, didn't expect to be gone that long. You managing okay without me?"

Uncle Darry choked back a laugh and I think almost swallowed a nail doing it. Dad pretended to look insulted.

"I saw Vauniman," Jon told Robbie, pulling a piece of paper out of his back pocket. "He's in."

I went back to the crossword puzzle while they talked about their baseball team. Six-letter word for members of the horse family…

"So is that everybody?" Robbie asked.

Why can't you just say 'horse' when you want to talk about a horse? I wrote down 'horsee'.

"Yeah," Jon answered. "You snagged Peterson the other day at work, and Montero and Kenley -"

I snapped my head up. "Who?"

Jon looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. "What?"

"Did you say Emilio is on your team?" I asked casually, ignoring my pounding heart.

"Oh. Yeah." Jon turned back to Robbie. "So with Vauniman added this morning, I think we've got a pretty strong team."

"I'll play with you," I offered.

My brothers both gave me an odd look. Even Dad glanced over to see what I was smoking. "Anyway," Robbie started, deciding to ignore me.

"Hey!" I protested. "Come on, you have to let me play!"

"Uh…I don't think so," Robbie said, picking up a pamphlet for deck stain and leafing through it. "No, nope, doesn't say anything at all here in the official manual about letting incompetent inept people who don't know a baseball from Venus play on our team."

I snatched the pamphlet out of his hand. "I'm your sister," I reminded him. "You have to let me play. Besides," I added, "it's not that I _can't_ play, I just never really _wanted_ to all that much." I mean, really, how hard could it be, right?

Uncle Darry kept hammering, but I thought I detected a snicker between hits. I ignored him.

"Okay," Robbie said, immediately winning a horrified look from Jon, but he held his hand up to indicate that he had everything under control, "answer a couple of questions then. Ready?"

I nodded impatiently.

"First, and I'll start with an easy one – how many points to you get when you run a touchdown?" He gave a smug grin.

My brain went into overdrive and didn't let my mouth catch up with things. "Uh…one! No, wait…" Robbie was smiling now, and Jon looked relieved. How many points…it had to be one, right? "Yeah, one." Uncle Darry was laughing now, and my brain finally slowed down and processed Robbie's question. "Hey, that's not fair! Touchdowns are in football!"

"So what's the big deal all of a sudden about being on a baseball team?" Dad asked. Hmmm…tell Dad that I'm having mental images of myself impressing a boy two years older than me by strutting around swinging a baseball bat and maybe twisting an ankle or something so he has to carry me off the field? I don't think so.

"I've never been on a team at school," I explained. "I just thought it would be fun to do something with my brothers since I don't get to see them all day, and my best friend is in California all summer." Jon and Robbie both work at a horse ranch. They both made snorting snickering suppressed-laughing noises, so I shot them a glare. "So can I play on their team?" I asked Dad, who was busy unwrapping little packets of…hardware.

Dad shrugged. "It's up to your brothers, honey. I'm not involved in this."

Needless to say, that was the end of the conversation. For the moment.

> > > > > 

"So please, guys?"

Jon finally sighed. I had been badgering them all day, finally suggesting that they let me play one game if I proved that I could play baseball. "I don't see the harm," Jon suggested to Robbie, who put his hands over his face.

"I knew you would cave," Robbie groaned. "Alright. Alright, you can play, but only if all of the following conditions have been met: we have had at least six games before you play; you bat once and only once per game, but only if it will not put the team in a bad position; AND you first show us that you indeed have mastered the game of baseball. Or at least that you won't be running the ball into the end zone."

"Fine," I agreed. Six games. At two games a week, I had three weeks to prepare. Plenty of time, right? All I needed was somebody who would practice with me without trying to make me worse than I already was. Somebody who didn't have a stake in keeping me off of their stupid team. Somebody who knew about baseball.

> > > > > >

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Go away."

"Come on, please? Isn't there something I can do for you? Make your bed for a week? Do some of your chores?" I held my breath in anticipation while Jason turned the page of his magazine and leaned farther back into the couch pillow.

"No," he said again. I was about to rip out my hair.

"Jason," I tried again, "I really need your help here. Really. Please? Just for, like, an hour a day. Half-an-hour. Fifteen minutes!" I thought back to the night of the fireworks. "I can hook you up with Dawn," I offered. As if I even really knew Dawn, but I was desperate by that point.

Jason didn't move, but I could see a flicker of interest. "What makes you think I need your help to get hooked up with someone?" he asked. Jeez, why hadn't I thought of this angle an hour ago?

"Because Jackie told me that Dawn's parents don't want her dating older boys. But they know Jackie, so they can know me, and you're my brother. If I invite Dawn over here…" I trailed off to let him use his imagination, which incidentally kind of made me shudder, so I tried to not think about it.

I watched Jason turn another page, but I could see that he wasn't paying attention to his magazine any more. Dad says I'm good at reading people. "Okay," Jason said, "let's say I help you out. What's to say you'll hold up your end of the bargain?"

I had to think fast. "I'll have a sleepover in a week and a half. Saturday night. You won't have work that night, and Mom and Dad are going out with Soda and Melanie that night, remember?" It was working, I could see it was working. I smiled inwardly. To give outward signs that I thought I had won would be akin to disaster. Jason would never go along with it if I made it seem like I had pulled something over on him. "By that point I probably still won't be too good. You can even withhold some training until after then," I added.

Jason gave a short sigh. "Alright. I'll do it. But if you piss me off, we're done. Got it? And don't come waking me up. We'll start after I have lunch, and for no more than thirty minutes." Jason works on an overnight road crew. They work on the highway from eight at night until four in the morning, when there isn't as much traffic and it's dark and cooler out. He gets home and goes to bed by five, then sleeps until twelve or one.

I nodded. "Sounds good." Neither of us made like we were all that excited; Jason got up and strolled off to his room, and I sauntered into the kitchen. But I swear, between my excited squeals once I was in the kitchen, I swear I heard him whoop something out in his room above me. Who knows. Still, Jason, excited about anything? More likely, Dallas had brought in a dead mouse and left it on his pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I know this is a short one, but since I may not be able to get back to it until next week, I'm posting this much now. Hope you enjoy! Liz

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders

**Dedication**: For Tens, Kiks, Rock, and Taurus, just because; for Julie, because I thought you could use a little laugh after going through a heat wave with two little tykes; and for P&P, whom Jack suggested we invite back to the house practically before the car was out of sight. I'll make the coffee again, for all of us :D

* * *

**My Exciting Life  
Chapter 5**

"The ball, Gina. Watch. The. Freaking. BALL!"

I held the bat to my side and glared at Jason. "I _am_ watching the ball. You're still throwing it too fast!"

Jason clenched his fist around the ball so hard, I was kind of surprised it didn't rupture. "Christ, Gina, I can't alter the laws of physics! If I throw the ball any slower it'll never make it over the plate!"

"Move closer," I suggested.

Jason was looking at me like I had just suggested we have a little waltz on the front porch. "I'm halfway from where the pitcher's mound should be as it is! I might just as well stand right next to you and hold the ball completely stationary in front of you!" It sounded like a good idea to me.

We had been at it for four days, and I couldn't hit the ball. I could throw pretty well, given a fair radius of error, and my catching was improving, considering it had taken me most of the first lesson to stop closing my eyes and ducking when Jason threw the ball to me. But so far, it seemed I was not meant to hit a ball with a bat. "You don't need to get so angry," I pointed out, which only seemed to fuel his fire. "Maybe you're just a lousy teacher." Truthfully, Jason was a pretty good teacher. But I wasn't about to tell _him_ that.

Jason hurled the ball at the ground and threw his arms in the air. "Fine! Fine, you ungrateful little snot. I give up! You will never ever hit this ball. There is something _wrong_ with you."

I huffed and tossed the bat on the ground. "Fine! I don't need your help anyway. I'll probably do better without you!"

I stood there and watched Jason storm toward the house, stopping to get a drink from the hose on his way. I took a breath and hurried after him.

"Jase?"

"Go away."

"Come on, Jason. I need you to help me. I _have_ to hit this ball. Please? I won't help you out with Dawn!"

Jason tossed the end of the hose to the ground and whirled around to face me. "So? You think I need your help to get a girl? I don't even care about that anymore; you're driving me crazy!"

We stood there and looked at each other for a minute, glared at each other, really, neither of us willing to admit to the mutual obsession that had overtaken us. I _had_ to hit the ball. It was no longer just to get on the team, or to impress Emilio, and I think for Jason it had nothing to do with Dawn, and he couldn't care less if anything good ever happened for me. But we had both become fixated on getting me to have that bat make contact with that ball. Jason had tried everything and was at his wit's end, and it was driving him insane that nothing was working. I was half expecting him to blindfold me next and tell me to use the force.

"Five more minutes," he finally said in a tone that indicated that he had won, even though I felt like I had. "And I swear, if you don't hit the ball by then, I am done with you."

> > > >

"Where do you want this stuff?" Jon asked me.

I turned to see him standing next to the counter with a bowl of chips and some dip. "Just put it on the coffee table. Thanks."

"I think the real question," Robbie said, looking up from his ice cream, "is, 'what are you and the other girls planning to _do_ with that stuff?'." He grinned at me like I was trying to hide something.

"What are you talking about?" I lifted the top of the mixer and pulled the bowl off its stand to dump the brownie batter into the pan.

"Oh, I think you KNOW what I'm talkin' about," Robbie smirked. "Bunch of girls, container of dip, a few potato chips…" He trailed off and raised his eyebrows at me. I shoved the pan into the oven and rolled my eyes, deciding to ignore him.

"Jackie's here," Jon announced as he walked back into the kitchen.

"Oh, good. Did you let her in?"

Jon shook his head. "Just saw the car pull in."

I wiped my hands on the towel and headed out to the living room, opening the door just as Jackie – and Dawn – stepped onto the porch. "Hey, guys!" I greeted. I took a closer look at Jackie. "What's that on your face?"

Jackie smiled. "Makeup. Doesn't it look great? Dawn put it on for me." We shuffled into the living room.

Dawn waved her hand as if to ward off a compliment. "You have great skin," she told Jackie. "With your color, it was easy to pick out the right shades." She stopped talking to give Jackie a quick pointed look, and they both laughed.

"What's going on?" I asked, feeling kind of left out, since they were pretty much ignoring me.

Jackie waved her hand and laughed harder. "Oh, it was so funny! There was this guy," she stopped and put her hand over her mouth as Dawn joined in the giggle-fest. "And he…and he…" Jackie was in tears and folded in half.

"Never mind, you can tell me later," I offered. Anything to make them both stop laughing and step into the present. "You guys want to come in the kitchen? I just put some brownies in the oven."

I watched Dawn as we walked back to the kitchen. She was fifteen, a year older than us, and looked like she would probably be a cheerleader. Yay. Makeup, cheery attitude, perfect hair…in short, very annoying.

By the time the brownies were out of the oven, the other girls – Tricia, Andrea, and Maxine – had arrived. They were all huddled around the counter admiring Dawn's fingernails. "So where do you get the stickers?" Andrea asked.

Dawn tapped her elaborate nails on the counter. "My mom orders them from a catalog. Aren't they cool? I've got different ones for all the seasons, and every occasion."

"So are those the sleeping bag ones?" I asked. Tricia laughed, and Dawn gave me an odd smile.

"Dawn brought, like, fifty bottles of nail polish," Jackie told us.

I was about to ask why on earth she did that when Dawn waved everybody over to the table. "Ooh, everybody sit down and pick a color," she suggested, producing a bag that I hadn't realized was slung over her shoulder, and they all followed her like she was the pied piper as she dumped the bag onto the table.

"I thought we were playing Trivial Pursuit," I reminded everybody.

Maxine glanced back at me. "We can do that later."

"Right." Somebody shoot me. "Does anyone want a brownie?"

Jackie opened her mouth to answer, but Dawn looked kind of disgusted and spoke first. "Not me. That kind of stuff goes right to my hips. Besides, chocolate makes you break out."

Everybody looked concerned and in agreement, as if she was making any sense at all. I realized I was rubbing at the pimple that had just appeared on the side of my chin the day before and quickly pulled my hand away from my face. "I was making them for the boys, anyway," I explained. "To keep them out of our way."

Just then Jason sauntered into the room, gave a quick smile and nod toward the table, strolled over to the refrigerator, pulled out the orange juice, and took a swig out of the container. Dawn and Tricia giggled. I made a mental note to not drink any more orange juice out of our refrigerator. "There's some brownies here," I pointed out, "in case you wanted to plant your face in the pan and have a go at them." Jason ignored me.

"You were at the fireworks, right?" he asked Dawn, as if he hadn't been planning this moment for, like, over a week. I wondered how long it had taken him to come up with that one. His reflection had probably dozed off while he was practicing it.

Dawn gave a sly little grin. "Yep, that was me."

Jason smiled and put the orange juice back. "Painting the house?" he asked, walking over to look at all the little bottles. Everybody laughed at his corny little joke. I took the opportunity to slip into the living room where Jon and Robbie were watching television.

"Did you guys see her?" I demanded quietly.

They both looked at me.

"Dawn! Did you see her, all cute and flouncy?"

Robbie gave a little laugh. "Yeah; she's phat."

I stared at him. "What? She's like a twig!"

Jon sighed, and Robbie leaned forward for a handful of popcorn. "Not fat, genius. Phat." When I gave him a look he continued. "What'd you do, lose your updated manual of current teenage slang? For godsake, don't let Mom and Dad find it. They'll know what we're talking about."

"Robbie, I am going to rip your beating heart out of your -"

"Alright, relax. P-H-A-T. It means she's hot."

I considered for a few seconds. "So? Who cares? She's a ditz." Honestly.

Jon laughed. "Emilio ain't no prize either, hon."

I shot my twin a sharp glare. "At least he doesn't put stickers on his fingernails!"

"What?"

"Never mind. So anyway," I continued at a normal volume as Jackie emerged from the kitchen, "if you guys do decide to have some brownies, they're on the counter."

Jon and Robbie shot off the couch and around the corner to the kitchen before I was even done talking.

"Isn't she great?" Jackie asked me.

"Who?"

"Dawn! She is so cool, and I think she's really nice to be hanging out with us, even though we'll just be freshmen. You know?"

I gritted my teeth and shrugged. "I guess so."

Jackie leaned close. "Do you have any idea if Jason likes Dawn? She thinks he's so cute, so I told her I would ask you."

I dug my fingernails into my leg to stop myself from saying something that would throw Jason's plan off-kilter. I had made a deal, after all. "I think he thinks she's okay," I answered nonchalantly. As we turned back toward the kitchen, I took Jackie's arm, leaned closer to her ear, and lowered my voice. "But Robbie thinks she's fat."


End file.
